Both big girls had soccer games this weekend. But there was one change. It was silent soccer. Meaning we parents weren’t supposed to cheer. At all. Let me just say that this was very hard for me. I’m an enthusiastic (okay, borderline rabid) soccer mom. But I did it. I stood on the sidelines and I simply watched. Slipped up here and there and shouted out, but alas. I was for the most part silent.
The amazing thing, the interesting thing? Both of my girls had particularly good games. They knew I was there, looked over and caught my eye, but I only smiled, and threw up my arms in a little quiet rah-rah.
Now, here I am, thinking about this, about the power of silence, of silent support. Maybe what we don’t say sometimes matters almost as much as what we do say? Maybe holding back can be as effective as piping up. Maybe restraint is golden in certain circumstances.
I woke up early to write this morning. 4:30am. Spent much of the time cutting, pruning, simplifying. When I was done slicing and dicing, fiddling with the opening scene of my next novel, it was simple and sang, was that much more powerful.
Silent soccer. Simple writing. Food for thought on this good Monday morning.
Is less in fact more? When?